


Heart of Nobody

by quinnarrow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst with a Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, I Tried, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Sorry, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-01-06 12:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18388073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinnarrow/pseuds/quinnarrow
Summary: It's been years since the last Angel of Heaven fell to the demons.  Humanity has struggled without their powerful allies and chaos is slowly devouring the world.  But unbenounced to them, one angel remains; trying to stay one step ahead of the hordes of demons hunting him down.  Moving around from place to place, the lone warrior helps in his own ways until he saves a certain future lord on the battlefield.  Fighting demons and protecting his brother has always been Dean’s main focus.  But a stranger with striking blue eyes begins to take his attention.





	1. Prologue

Humanity has always been cursed. Cursed with despair and hardship. Cursed with a will to live and love. But the heaviest of humanities burdens is the curse of knowledge. Knowledge of what lurks in the dark. Knowledge something with claws or fangs is patiently waiting for a victim to saunter by.

But in this world, knowledge is power. Lords of the lands use what they know to protect those within the walls of their keeps; some better than others. Stories and lore are passed down through generations of fighting and survival. That is how humanity has prospered. How they’ve been able to fight back against the chaos monsters bestow for the right to simply live.

But one thing has threatened that right more than any other creature. They come in the form of pure black smoke. Once human souls corrupted by centuries of torture in the fires of Hell until darkness and hate overpower light and love. Until they were beyond saving. Until they ceased to be human. So many have fallen to the demons. Their bodies no longer theirs to control as pandemonium spreads to every corner of the Earth.

But humanity has never been alone in this battle. Ancient warriors of Heaven, nearly as old as creation itself, have kept the demons from ravaging their Father’s work completely. All without being seen. Needing permission to walk among their charges in secret, the angels fight for humankind and all they have to offer.

The clashes of Heaven and Hell are the stories told to children all knowing the small truths they hold. Believing the world stood a chance so long the angels fought for them. Even if there were innocent casualties along the way.

But it was that unfounded faith and devotion that blinded everyone. No one noticed the shadows darkening. The stars peppering the sky becoming dimmer. The ominous sense of doom growing so slowly, not a single soul, human nor creature, felt its strength multiplying.

Only when it was too late the absence of hope and happiness become apparent.

Only when all living beings witnessed a long foretold prophecy come into fruition. The flash of pure white light covering the night sky caused most to shield their eyes in protection. It lasted mere seconds, but the world would be forever changed. Gazes were drawn to the Heavens once more as a hot streak of light raced across the stars falling, falling, falling ever closer to the ground before disappearing completely. In that moment, all was clear.

The last angel of Heaven had fallen to the demons.

Panic brewed as kings and lords made feeble attempts to assure their people not all was lost; that humanity was not doomed to Hell on Earth. But their words could only do so much. It wasn’t long before reports of demon attacks and large scale possessions were sent to any who listened. Entire keeps found abandoned with only the smell of sulfur left behind.

At first humanity struggled. But as time progressed, years of experience and ancient lore allowed people to fight back and to carry on the fight angels had died for. But a human was no angel. Even with various blades to killed demons, the black eyes of the damned still marched forward gathering territory and ravaging random places as if in search of something. Rumor quickly spread they were scouring for a weapon that would end the war. Little human effort was put into searching for the fabled weapon since survival was the priority.

But no matter how far fetched the rumors, they sparked hope that was lost with the fall of the last angel. It gave something for people to hold onto in times of dire need. It gave them something to believe in again; that humanity will one day be saved.


	2. Devils Without Borders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people! I'm SUPER excited to continue this story. Sorry it took so long to really get started but things have been crazy. I hope you enjoy this story and I can't wait to hear from you guys. Please review and let me know what you think!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr under the name quinnarrow. Feel free to send me a message.
> 
> Enjoy :)

Two months.  That’s how long the battle has continued.  Two months of daily bloodshed with neither side willing to yield and neither making much progress.  Encampments were placed on the far sides of the fields of Thindol Valley where the border lies and many had fallen.

The armies of the demons had been marching east for weeks gathering as much territory and resources as they can with little opposition along the way.  That is until Lord Winchester called upon his banners to halt the demon’s trek through the Rendrasan Mountains and defend their lands.  There’s no better place defended against the creatures of the night than the Eastlands.  The knowledge passed down by the Winchester Family is unparalleled to any other allowing its people to live in relative safety for hundreds of years.  Even the king requested Lord Winchester’s assistance in placing protection around the capital.

But protection against demons is one thing; fighting them in an all-out battle is a whole other tale.  A lessen the son of Lord John Winchester learned quickly.

The sun was dipping below the mountains casting the valley in shadows and Dean almost felt relieved.  His muscles were aching from the strain of fighting too long; not all day but a decent amount.  His armor was scratched and dented in many places and his helmet was lost a while ago.  His sword hadn’t fared much better, but the blood of enemies covered the imperfections.  But wave of demons kept coming no matter how many meatsuits were destroyed.

“You doin’ alright, Sir?”

Dean glanced to his left towards one of his foot soldiers, Garth.  He looked as worn out at Dean felt but continued to fight on.

“I’m fine,” he grunted letting the ‘Sir’ slide.  Despite his higher ranking, Dean hated being called that.  “Keep your eyes peeled.  The day’s almost over.”

Garth nodded and ran off.  Dean risked another moment to assess the battlefield.  His brother was always better at this sort of thing, but he was back at the encampment safe and sound.  The majority of the soldiers had shifted to the northern side of the valley, but other pockets occupied other areas; so much for the organized strategy.  He also silently cursed for letting himself stray so far from everyone else.  But things could be worse.  A mentality to never give up is instilled in all members of the Winchester soldiers early on.  It’s definitely paid off by the looks of things.  Many of the men were still standing.

Dean turned back ready to run towards his men when a force knocked him to the side.  Sword flying out of hand, Dean sprawled out on his back as a knee instantly pressed into his breastplate.  He blinked as the face of the demon came into focus.  Or rather the face of the possessed soldier from his own ranks.  He couldn’t remember his name.  Pure black eyes completed the cruel smirk twisting the man’s features.

Without a word, the demon raised a dagger, similar to the one Dean himself carries, above his head with both hands.  Time slowed as the weapon was swiftly brought downwards.  Only years of training and natural instincts prevented the Winchester from an instant death.  Dean threw both hands above his head intercepting the motion.  The tip of the blade stopped mere inches from his face.  The demon pressed down with his full body sliding the blade ever closer to his target’s features.  Dean struggled.  His arms strained under the weight.  He knew he couldn’t last long like this.  He needed a plan.  He needed something to push the demon off.  He needed…

The weight of the body above him suddenly vanished. Darkening skies filled his vision.  Dean was so stunned he lied on the ground, in the middle of the battle, for a moment.  Weariness crept into his bones, body begging for rest.  But he couldn’t, not yet.

The swordsman scurried to his feet, mind instantly registering just how he was saved.  The demon was currently on his knees struggling to get out of another man’s choke hold.  But for all the struggles, the mystery man held fast barely moving.  It’s not easy going up against the strength of a demon, so Dean was thoroughly impressed.  The pair’s backs were to him so the only thing Dean could make out of his rescuer was hair black as ink and dirty armor indicating he belonged to the Mills Battalion.  He seemed to be whispering in the demon’s ear.  Dean only caught a few Latin words recognizing an exorcism.  It’s hardly used in the heat of battle, but if someone could be saved from the monster inside, swords were always exchanged for words.

As the man spoke the last words, he released his hold and black smoke erupted from the soldier’s mouth and disappeared back to Hell.  The newly liberated body fell limp to the ground.  Wordlessly, the man crouched down and wrapped the unconscious soldier’s arm around his shoulders before standing once more.  Finally the savior turned to Dean who was still stationary a few feet away. 

Green met blue.  The man’s eyes put sapphires to shame as if God himself placed the sparkling waters of the Southern Seas into them. There was a sense of innocence yet unfathomable amounts of wisdom learnt through years of hardship.  It’s as if they looked straight into the soul.

Before Dean blinked out of his daze, the man took off towards the medical wagons located at the edge of the battlefield giving no indication of struggle with the extra body weight.  Dean took a step to follow but stopped after realizing what he was doing.  Shaking his head, the swordsman located his dropped sword ran back into the fray.  But Dean could not, for the life of him, rid his mind of the soldier with the blue eyes.

* * *

People are confusing. 

Other beings, such as wendigos or ghouls, have one basic instinct controlling all actions; self-preservation.  The desire to live by any means necessary is what drives each and every one to maim and kill any threatening that goal.  Eons of evolution and that is something that’s never changed.

But humans… humans are different.  While its true survival is important to them, the love they possess for each other is what sets them apart.  Humanity is the only intelligent species on the planet that are willing to give their lives for the ones they care for.  Even most angels never went that far.  It’s a trait Castiel has always admired in people.  But there’s more than that; more behaviors and beliefs that no matter how much he tried, Castiel struggled to understand them all.

But the hostility around him was painfully clear.  The sour looks cast his direction wherever he roamed in the encampment are always easy to spot.  Fellow soldiers thought of him as odd and Castiel has never blamed them.  He was accepted into the Mills Battalion just before marching to the Thindol Valley.  The process was slow with many questions from the Commander and various lieutenants about past actions and whereabouts constantly thrown his way which he somehow artfully dodged.  It’s not the first time he’s done this since his failings of Heaven; since he, the last Angel of the Lord, was declared dead to the world.  But his limited knowledge of human behavior had also led to unpleasant situations involving others in the battalion.  So people kept their distance for the most part which suited the hiding angel just fine.  Less people to notice anything else unusual.

Like right now for example.

Castiel peeled the tunic off his torso, armor already cleaned and discarded on the floor of the empty barracks.  Everyone else was currently eating dinner before tending to evening duties.  As an angel, Castiel didn’t need to eat or sleep, but learnt to fake both fairly quickly.  He was lucky tonight, getting back to the tents so late.  The daily call to retreat from the field came shortly after depositing the newly un-possessed man on the medical cart at the edge of the battlefield.  There was no reason to return back to his men, so he accompanied the man to the medical tent and helped tend to him.

The angel looked down and concentrated on the bruises peppering his skin from the day’s battle feeling his grace hum underneath his skin; watching as the dark purples and blues shifted to pale yellow before disappearing completely within a matter of moments.  Castiel considered his healing factor a blessing and a curse.  He was thankful it allowed him to continue fighting, saving as many humans from the creatures of chaos as he can.  But being in hiding prevented the warrior from sharing his gifts.  Exorcism really was the only thing he could do with others around.  There were many times a human life could have been saved with a single touch that the angel chose not to intervene.  He’d lost count how many times he stood by watching a Reaper take souls to the afterlife.

“Novak.”

He looked up at the sound of the name.  It was the surname of the human Castiel has used as a vessel for many centuries.  The human’s soul had long since entered Heaven where his family awaited.  Although Castiel still used his true name, keeping the man’s memory alive by responding to the surname honored his sacrifice.  Very few soldiers within the battalion itself actually knew his “first” name.

“Hello Oliver.”

Oliver tilted his chin upwards showing his distaste.  It was an odd gesture considering he was a good four inches shorter and the same rank.  “Get decent.  The Commander requests your presence.”

Castiel nodded and replaced his tunic.  Since the meeting was with the Commander, he took a moment to dress in his armor as well.  Oliver waited impatiently but kept silent.  After strapping the sword to his waist, Castiel followed Oliver out of the barracks twisting between tents and fires ringed with the laughing soldiers of the Mills Battalion.  Their shift in mood as he walked by did not go unnoticed.

Castiel walked directly behind Oliver expecting to be led to the Commander’s tent, but Oliver walked straight out of their section of the encampment.  Each banner received a separate area of the encampment with theirs located on the northeastern edge; far from the more formidable forces.  As the pair passed, many soldiers gave them odd looks, but let them be.  It wasn’t common for soldiers to cross into other banner’s areas.  But Castiel welcomed the change from looks of disgust.

Nerves began to take hold in Castiel’s gut as he recognized their destination.  Oliver offered no other reasons for coming here, so he suppressed the feelings just like his brethren had taught so long ago.  He could handle anything thrown at him; good or bad.  Worst case scenario, he’d simply disappear and start over at another far location.  It wouldn’t be the first time.

Oliver stepped aside from the entrance to the War Tent.  “Good luck,” he smirked revealing his true feelings about the situation.  Both knew exactly who was inside.

Castiel took a quick deep breath before reaching out with a steady hand pulling back the tent flaps and stepped through.  It’s one of the largest structures second only to the medical tent.  A few tables covered in papers and notes ringed the sides of the tent.  A few chairs were scattered about leaving the middle of the floor unoccupied except for the three sets of boots waiting for him.

“My Lord,” he greeted with a head bow.  The first man is much taller than expected.  Lord John Winchester was battle worn.  Physically fit with years of wisdom painted in his dark eyes.  His expression was unreadable.  Castiel couldn’t decipher whether being called here was a good thing or not.

He turned to the next man.  “Sir.”  Commander Mills is a stout man.  His polished, unscathed armor barely fit over the roundness of his stomach.  Castiel is convinced the man’s sword strapped to his waist has never seen the light of day.  But that doesn’t make him any less intimidating.  He’s a ruthless commander whose goal is to kill as many demons as possible, not save those being possessed.

Even with two high ranking people the angel’s gaze was drawn to the lieutenant standing off to the side, the same one he saved on the field earlier.  Not for the first time that day, Castiel was mesmerized by the brightness of this man’s soul.  In all his existence, no soul had burned brighter.  That doesn’t happen by accident.

“Ah,” the Commander responded.  “Apologies for interrupting your meal.  Thank you for coming.”  Castiel narrowed his eyes.  It’s unusual for him to be this pleasant.  Mills turned to Lord Winchester.  “This is Novak.  One of our finest.  He joined our battalion shortly before you called the banners.  Impeccable timing in my opinion.”

Lord Winchester studied Castiel for a moment as if deciding his fate.  It was hard not to squirm under his gaze.  “Does Novak have a full name?”

“Everyone calls…”

All he did was look.  One look and Mills shut his mouth tighter than a devil’s trap.  The fact Lord Winchester could render someone speechless so easily was oddly amusing to Castiel.  The angel glanced behind the pair and caught the also amused gaze of the third man yet to speak, but quickly returned his attention to the superiors.

“I believe this man can speak for himself,” Lord Winchester calmly pointed out before turning back to the man in question.

In response, the angel found himself straightening his posture out of respect.  The older man had that effect.  Even so, Castiel hesitated.  Logically, the number of people knowing his name must be kept at a minimum.  While the Angel of Thursday wasn’t well known to most humans, any demon would easily recognize his name.

But there wasn’t really a way around it since Mills already knew.  “Castiel Novak, My Lord,” he finally complied, “Most call me Novak.”

“Well, Novak, I know it’s unusual calling you here,” Lord Winchester begun.  His body language and expression are neutral giving no signs if the conversation will turn sour.  But then, in the blink of an eye, his shoulders relaxed while offering what could be considered the makings of a warm smile.  He steps forward raising his calloused hand, “but I wanted to personally thank you.”

This confused Castiel even more, but he obliges the handshake.  “Pardon My Lord, but might I ask what for?”

“Earlier today you saved him,” he gestured toward the third man who began stepping forward, “my most trusted lieutenant on the battlefield from one of my men who was possessed.  You saved my son.”

“Dean Winchester,” the man introduced.

“Pleasure.”

The pair shook hands and Castiel was immediately immersed in a field of green.  He noticed the unusual color earlier on the field, but it wasn’t until now details came into focus.  The shade could be compared to a rare peaceful meadow with an offer of renewal.  Determination set the startling irises ablaze that only come with seasoned fighters.  But there was something else; something Castiel couldn’t quite decipher before Lord Winchester spoke once more.

“For your brave act of saving someone so important to the fight and to me, I wish to reward you.  Any reasonable item or action is yours.”

Castiel had no hesitations with his choice.  “Thank you, Lord Winchester, but it is unnecessary.”

“Novak…”  The Commander’s tone held serious warning, but the surprise of the refusal was unmistakable even to the angel.

“I mean no disrespect, My Lord,” he continued, “but my actions were not the result of his rank or lineage.  I saw a fellow soldier in need and did what I could to help because it’s what I hope others would do for me.”

He doesn’t mention the heavy guilt weighing on his shoulders.  Or how he feels responsible for the fall of his brothers and sisters of Heaven and has been trying to atone for it since.

The eldest man’s expression shifted to something that could only be described as a hint of pride.  Although why he seemed pleased with Castiel’s answer was beyond him.  He turned back to Mills who was still sending glares to his subordinate.  “Commander Mills,” he traded glaring for standing at attention.  “I wish to transfer Castiel Novak to my command.”

Mills immediately attempted to stutter out a shocked protest.  “But… but My Lord.  He… he’s one of our best fighters.  You can’t…”

“I understand.  But there are much larger things afoot and I need the best there is.  I’m sorry.  This is not up for discussion.” Lord Winchester at least looked sympathetic about his actions, but there was something else going on.  It was easy to spot the wheels turning in his head.  He turned to Dean then.  “Assist Castiel in gathering his things and find a place for him in our barracks.”

“Yes, Sir,” Dean saluted.

His father addressed Castiel, “You will receive your assignment in the morning.” 

“Yes, My Lord,” he managed to choke out.  _Did that really just happen?_

“Now if you’ll excuse us, I’m sure Commander Mills would like a word with me.”

“Come on,” Dean whispered while pulling on Castiel’s arm.  He allowed himself to be led out of the tent as he tried to process what had just occurred.  It was unusual for a high ranking official to request a single transfer like that.  Normally one would ask for entire troops and battalions.  Things just weren’t adding up, but one thing was for sure; things were about to get much more complicated for the angel.


	3. Choices of Tomorrow

"Dean!"

The exhausted man turned as his younger brother weaved between person after person towards him. He was nearly four years his senior yet the youngest Winchester surpassed him in intelligence and height. Even from an early age it was clear how special he was.

"Hiya Sammy."

Dean braced himself as Sam wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Limits to physical contact had been instilled in him from an early age, but Sam was always the exception. Since their father never allowed his youngest on the battlefield, he would have to wait every day to hear the fate of his brother. It was an unspoken tradition to embrace each other after a battle just to ensure the other was okay.

Sam released his hold and smiled. "Garth said you were on your way to the barracks, so I thought I'd come find you."

"Yeah. Dad asked me to find a spot for the new guy."

"What new guy?"

Dean shrugged and started walking back to the brothers' tent. Private sleeping tents was one of the perks of being heir to the Eastlands. Sam quickly fell into step beside him. "A soldier from the Mills Battalion. He save my ass today, so Dad had him transferred I guess."

"Really?" Sam shot a look of confusion. "Why would he do that? It doesn't sound like something he would do."

"No idea. I didn't exactly stick around to question his authority in front of that dirtbag Commander Mills." Dean practically spat the name.

Everyone knew about Mills. He was the type of guy to trample his own people to grab power. The only reason Lord Winchester had called his banner was the need for higher numbers of soldiers.

Dean shook his head and continued. "But the new guy seems decent if not a little odd. I'm just glad he was on the field today."

Sam reached out, holding the flaps to their tent as Dean walked through before following himself. Their living space was decent size; large enough for the brothers to feel slightly guilty about it. Each bed was on opposite sides with a clear divide down the middle. Sam's side had a full chest of books with demon lore and spells. The bed was constantly covered with personal notes; it acted more like a desk than a place to sleep.

Dean's side on the other hand was quite bare in comparison. Bed neatly made, a few notes stranded here or there, a place to put his clothes, armor and various weapons and tools. He never carried much with him for battle, only what was necessary. It just made things easier.

The bed creaked as Dean sat down in a huff. He absentmindedly rubbed the center of his chest that was undoubtedly bruised under the tunic.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam questioned noticing his brother's actions.

"Nothing I can't handle."

"What happened?"

Dean let his hand drop into his lap and looked down in thought. "A demon possessed one of our own and attacked me. He was about to skewer me right in the eye when the new guy tackled him."

Same raised an eyebrow with a knowing smirk. "So that's how you met."

The comment was met with a half-hearted glare. It was no secret Dean was getting older and he hadn't exactly settled down with anyone. It was uncommon, especially for an heir, to not be married at his age. Dean just never found the right person or had the desire to look for them. Until that happened Sam teased whenever the opportunity presented itself. Which was to say a lot.

"Anyways," he continued, "he exorcised the demon and ran off.

"Why didn't anybody from your troops help you?"

"Well," Dean said sheepishly know exactly Sam's reaction, "I, uh, kind of ended up further from the fight than I intended."

"Oh come on," Sam exclaimed. "You told me you would be careful."

"I am careful!"

"I can name three times in the last week alone that proves otherwise."

"I can't control everything! I'm not God."

"Whatever Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam tossed his pillow at Dean who easily batted it away nearly knocking down the lantern. The brotherly banter continued, but Dean's mind was elsewhere. Most of his father's actions always had a purpose and he could not for the life of him figure out why he made the transfer of Castiel Novak. For some reason it was bothering him not knowing. Usually he didn't have to think too hard about these kind of thing in order to understand. But not this time. The only explanation he could think of was a reward for saving his son's life, but the reasoning was too weak. John Winchester had to be planning something. And Dean wanted to know what it was.

* * *

The next morning, both Sam and Dean waited alone in the War Tent. A runner had told them their father wanted to see them after breakfast, but he was nowhere to be seen. Sam had taken to studying the map on the back table while Dean occupied a chair mindlessly spinning his silver dagger.

Their attention was drawn to movement at the tent entrance. Dean was taken by surprise as Castiel Novak walked in. It was the first time he'd seen the guy without his armor, but the plain, simple slacks and tunic seemed… more natural on him.

The man had stopped walking after noticing the brothers. The silence was getting a bit awkward so Dean cleared his throat.

"Mornin', Cas."

Cas looked to Dean with a slight head tilt, brows furrowed in confusion at the new nickname. But he quickly recomposed himself before saying "Good Morning, Dean", his voice as low and gruff as ever. He might be able to compete with his father on that front.

Sam started walking forward to introduce himself, but Dean decided teasing was in order. A little revenge for the night before. "That is my annoying, less-handsome little brother Sam." Sam shot a quick glare but held out his hand anyways. "Sam this is Cas, the new guy from yesterday."

The pair shook hands and Dean noticed the slight glint of mischief in his brother's eye. "It's an honor. I've heard  _so_  much about you."

Cas's shoulders tensed. "You have?"

"Oh yeah," Sam replied with unnecessary enthusiasm, "Dean talked all night about how you saved him yesterday on the field. Wouldn't shut up about it."

"Oh." Cas relaxed with a sigh. If Dean didn't know any better, he could've sworn he saw a hint of relief in the strange man's demeanor.

"Ignore him," he grumbled. "So, Cas, what brings you here?"

"I was told Lord Winchester required my presence. I can only assume I will receive my assignment as he declare last night."

"Well I can't say you're wrong."

Three heads whipped around as the man himself came walking into the tent. Cas immediately stood at attention while the boys stayed put. Dean didn't even bother getting up.

"Actually," the older man continued, "all of you are getting an assignment."

Dean immediately locked eyes with Sam. The excitement and hope in his expression was unhindered. This would be the first time the youngest would get to fight on the field. Dean was happy for him. He truly was but worry acted as a heavy shroud. Protecting Sam always came above all else. He never wanted his baby brother to be put in harm's way. Sam knew more about demons and angels and monsters than anybody Dean had met. But applying that knowledge on the battlefield was a whole other story. He'd be lying if he said a protest wasn't on the tip of his tongue.

John motioned for them to gather around the map Sam had been studying earlier. "It's no secret humanity's struggling. Demons are mostly unorganized yet strong and unrelenting." He leaned onto his knuckles still looking down at the map. "Other lords and I have been discussing a change in tactics. One that requires a bit more… finesse. Demons have been hunting us from the very beginning. Now it's their turn to be hunted. We've agreed to create small teams of people we trust and send them to track small groups of demons down and take them out. This way their forces will slowly weaken until we're ready to send all of them back to Hell."

"And you want us to be one of those teams," Sam concluded.

John nodded. "Exactly. There's no one I trust more than my two boys. And you," He turned his eyes to Cas who had become statue-like. "I've had my eye on you the first moment you stepped on that battlefield two months ago. You're a fighter; strong-willed and calculating. I have a good feeling about you Novak, but if I'm wrong," John steeled his gaze, "my boys know how to protect themselves."

Cas didn't even blink. "Yes, My Lord."

Sam looked at Dean and mouthed  _'Novak?'_

Dean rolled his eyes and silently replied,  _'last name'_.

Lord Winchester nodded in approval. "Good. The plan is to check out reports of demon sightings and either eliminate them all or use one to gather information. Easier said than done, but this could be the very thing that changes the war in our favor."

"Well when you put it like that…" Dean mumbled.

John ignored him. "Now even though I am your father and your lord, I can't force you to do this. For me to accept I'm sending my only children to hunt demons, I need to know if you're alright with this."

The brothers had no hesitations.

"Absolutely."

"Yes, Sir."

Cas however did noticeably hesitate. All eyes turned to him at the lack of response. His face held no emotional expression; Dean found it chilling. Cas finally looked up upon noticing the silence and swallowed. "I do not believe I am the logical choice for this assignment. I am merely a soldier."

"That may be," John contemplated, "but like I said, I have a good feeling about you. Earth is ours. Don't you think it's high time the demons are reminded of that?"

The argument was pretty solid in Dean's opinion. It's what made his dad such an effective leader and why his leadership was not only well-known but respected throughout the lands. Unfortunately, Dean wasn't the one needing convincing. Cas was still staring at the elder Winchester with an unblinking gaze for what seemed like forever before averting his eyes and sighing. "Alright. It would be an honor to fight by your son's sides."

"Great," John beamed. "Here's what we know so far…"

* * *

"Hey Cas?"

The man stopped walking and turned back as Dean entered the makeshift horse corral. The sun had finally reached above the peaks of the mountains chasing the chill and shadows away. John wanted the newly formed team to leave the encampment as soon as possible so Dean had a short window of opportunity to talk to his new comrade alone.

"Hello, Dean."

Cas was now dressed in the standard Winchester leather armor similar to Dean. It was lightweight yet offered more protection than just a tunic. John must've found it for him. It fit surprisingly well consider it wasn't custom made.

"So," Dean was having a hard time finding his words. It didn't happen often but the man was having trouble concentrating while those blue eyes stared right at him.

He cleared his throat and tried again. "So, uh, are you okay?"

Honestly, this wasn't something Dean would normally do; ask about feelings. And being in charge of a large group of people gave him that luxury. It was like armor against intimacy. Sure, the lieutenant had a close working relationship with his men, but there was nothing beyond that. Just a common will to defend their home. However, he understood the stakes of this new mission. With only three of them with no backup, all required to be in top shape with no distractions or reservations. They needed to be one hundred percent committed if they were going to pull this off. And even though he agreed, Castiel was still recognizably hesitant.

Cas tilted his head. It was a gesture Dean was beginning to recognize as a common thing with the soldier. "I am fine."

"Right," Dean huffed. "Are you sure? I know we barely know each other, but you seemed really tense back there when the plan was being laid out."

Laughter drew the pair's attention to outside the corral. Two foot soldiers were saddling their horses. The sigil on their armor suggested the Mills Battalion. Dean immediately disliked both of them.

"Something funny?" he challenged.

"Oh extremely," one barked, "Novak there is always tense. Haven't you noticed?"

The other one huffed with a cruel smirk. "Yeah. The day he cracks a smile is the day the angels return."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Cas clench his fist, knuckles turning white in the process. The man was clearly angered by the comment yet said nothing. Fire sparked inside Dean's chest. Unlike his comrade, Dean hated staying silent.

"Uh huh," he deadpanned and turned to Cas speaking loudly. "Hey Cas, do you think Commander Mills knows his men are sneaking off to the nearest town for some action? Maybe the battlefield isn't exciting enough."

The look on both the soldier's faces was priceless as one immediately tried to deny it. "Wha… you… you don't know what you're talking about."

"You know," Dean continued as if not hearing them, "one would think two strapping young  _boys_  would know how to hide hickeys better."

Mill's men left pretty soon after that stuttering curses under their breath while leading their horses out of the coral. They hadn't even finished strapping the saddles correctly.

Dean laughed as they left but Cas merely furrowed his brows. "That was unnecessary."

Dean attempted to stifle his laughter still riding the high of success. "I disagree. How could you let those guys talk about you like that?"

Cas shrugged. "There was no point. Neither would have listened to what I had to say, plus I've learned staying silent is the best way to avoid future conflict."

Dean didn't really have an answer for that. His whole life he's defended himself and his brother countless times. The fact someone would just take a verbal beating like that never crossed his mind. Just another puzzle piece that created the picture of Castiel. So he just shrugged and slapped the strange man's shoulder.

"Come on," he beamed. "We got a world to save."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So turns out this story is easy to write. I'm trying to focus some time to my other stories, but this one just has it claws in me. Anyways, not much for me to say this time around except please let me know what you think. Reviews give me life!! Enjoy!
> 
> ~quinnarrow


	4. Whispering Winds

Castiel hated not being able to fly. Physically he still could, but the risk of recognition was too great with others around. There weren't many species who could disappear in a blink of an eye. And that's all humans saw. One moment there's an angel standing there and the next there's not. They don't experience the rush of wind or the excitement of plummeting towards the ground in a challenge to pull up at the last possible moment. The joys of chasing his siblings through the stars is what Castiel missed most. And he would happily give his wings if it meant seeing his family alive again.

The angel shook his head to clear away thoughts knowing they'd only bring heartache. Instead he focused on the two brothers riding ahead. They seemed to be in some sort of mindless argument while attempting to avoid the low branches of the forest.

Lord Winchester had received word of a small gathering of demons in the ruins of Klord. Unfortunately the ruins were quite far from Thindol Valley; a two day journey on horseback through dense forest. The plan was to check the area and kill the demons if possible. Castiel could easily handle the task himself, but with the brothers around, using any Heavenly power was no longer an option.

"Hey Cas?"

Castiel looked up at the nickname Dean seemed to prefer. Both brother's heads were turned to his general direction.

"You agree with me, right?" Dean asked. "Back me up here."

"Don't listen to him," Sam countered. "Dean just refuses to accept the truth."

The elder Winchester scowled. "Just because some old guy wrote a  _claim_  down centuries ago doesn't make it fact."

"It's  _because_  its written down I believe it. Unlike your claim which has absolutely nothing to back it up."

"It's called logical thinking Sam."

"Since when do you think logically?"

"Since always!" Dean looked over his shoulder once more. "Come on, Cas. What do you think?"

Castiel tilted his head in response. "I don't understand. What's being discussed?"

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam explained. "Dean thinks people knew how to brew coffee when it was first discovered. That nothing came before that."

"There's no other way to drink it!"

"That journal says otherwise. People ate the beans for a while before learning to brew."

"Actually, it came from berries first."  Both brothers shot looks of confusion to Castiel so he continued. "When hu… when it was first discovered people would chew on the berries. You learned it from the goats."

"Oh come on. That's just a folktale," Dean argued.

"Sometimes folktales hold truth."

Sam seemed to contemplate the information while Dean just faced forward muttering "whatever" under his breath.

It wasn't long after the three newly named hunters found themselves on top of a hill overlooking the ruins. The woods they'd been riding through abruptly ended as if a barrier prevented further growth. The ground was scorched and scarred holding little promise life would ever return. The setting sun cast the remaining structure of the once great keep in an unfavorable light. Large stones that were once high walls peppered the area around the single standing ruin. The roof had long been destroyed, but four battered walls reached into the air in defiance of chaos.

Dean gave a low whistle. "Must have been some fight."

Sam dismounted with a grim expression. "I would think so. Rumor has it this is where demons and angels had their last battle on Earth. The angels fell not long after."

"Long before our time Sammy."

Castiel had fallen silent ignoring the brothers. When Lord Winchester revealed the location they were headed, a lump had lodged in his throat and had stubbornly refused to dissipate since. He'd known returning to this place would be difficult. But the angel had underestimated just how difficult. No one else knew what each and every scorch mark covering Klord actually meant.

"I say we wait 'til nightfall to check it out."

Castiel startled as Dean suddenly appeared beside him. He hadn't even noticed the man dismounting. The elder Winchester was giving a curious look. It wasn't until a raise of an eyebrow Castiel realized he was waiting for an answer.

"O… oh," he stuttered, "Yes. That is an ideal plan."

Before Dean could question him, Castiel dismounted and joined Sam where he was securing the horses repeating the actions for his own.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

Castiel nodded, suppressing all emotions. "I am fine." For years, the angel has yearned for someone to share his troubles with. But since all of his brothers and sisters were no more, he was alone.

Sam just gave a knowing look. "I know you barely know us, but you can always talk to us. If you want that is. We're a team now. That means we look out for each other. Dean and I have been doing it our whole lives." He shrugged. "I'd be happy to add one more to the list."

Castiel felt the corners of his mouth twitch and quickly looked away. Guess both Winchester's could easily read people. Or he didn't hide his emotions as well as he thought. However, the words were touching, some of the kindest in his time on Earth, but keeping humans at arm's length is how he'd survived for so long. He composed his features into a blank stare before returning his gaze upwards to Sam.

"I appreciate that, Sam, but there is nothing to talk about."

The younger Winchester's shoulders slumped in slight defeat as his brother called out to them. "Are you two gonna talk all night? We got a job to do."

They joined Dean at the crest of the hill, observing as the shadows grew ever longer. All eyes drew to the four walls. Castiel could feel the demon's presence. Just a few hidden from view. Not enough to warrant a warning to the brothers. He patted the amulet beneath his shirt; an enochian symbol that prevents other creatures from seeing his true form beneath his vessel or sensing his presence.

"We'll use the cover of night to run across the field," Dean continued.

Sam hummed in agreement. "That's smart. Those walls look like they have multiple entry points. We can each take a wall and attack simultaneously from all sides."

"Demons won't even know what hit them," Dean beamed obviously proud of his brother. "We can do this no sweat."

Castiel could only hope he was right.

* * *

Dean was wrong. Dean was very wrong.

Although Castiel supposed there was no way of knowing the demons had allied with two djinns. That small piece of unknown information had left the three hunters unprepared and vulnerable. A silver knife dipped in lamb's blood was nowhere to be found.

It didn't take long for the odd group of creatures to overwhelm them. Sam and Dean were pressed against the opposite wall facing off with the demons while one djinn stalked waiting for the right moment to fill them with its poison.

Castiel found himself separated from the others while fending off the other djinn. A kick to the center of his chest sent him flying into the already damaged wall. The djinn attempted to pin him immediately after he crumpled to the ground. All Castiel could do was try to keep the monster from touching him. He'd dropped his demon blade a while ago, not that it would do any good at the moment.

The djinn straddled his waist reaching for his head; hands glowing threateningly blue. It took more than a single touch to poison an angel, but he wasn't immune. By some sheer luck the djinn was wearing long sleeves, so Castiel gripped its forearms preventing contact. A yell of frustration filled the air as the creature began to wildly lash out. Castiel could tell his grip was weakening and he was out of options.

Well… almost.

Castiel risked a glance towards the brothers. Only two demons were left dancing around the fallen bodies of their brethren. The djinn was still stalking. But most importantly, everyone was well distracted. Decision made, the angel did something he hadn't done in years.

Allowing the weight of the djinn to fall, Castiel guided the momentum to the left of his head. The djinn barely had time to sit back up before Castiel felt a comforting weight appear in his right hand. Wrapping his fingers around the cold hilt, the angel blade was quickly slipped into the creature's ribs. A cry of pain tore through its throat as the blue glow of power faded from its eyes.

Body pushed aside, Castiel stood. The final djinn had turned at the cry of its kin filled with rage. But that rage quickly turned to shock and fear as its gaze fell upon the blood soaked angel blade.

It actually took a step back. "No no no no. You can't be…" It stepped back once more still in shock as Castiel began to advance. "You're an a…"

The angle blade sunk into its chest. The body fell to the ground as he pulled out the blade. The sound of the death of a demon drew Castiel's attention. Sam released his hold on the now lifeless body as Dean retrieved his blade from the last demon's neck.

Silence filled the room as chaos dissipated. Only ragged breaths pierced the void as the three hunters soaked in their victory.

Or as Dean muttered, "Holy crap."

"Cas?"

Castiel straightened as he finally recovered his breath. Looking to Sam, he saw wide eyes darting between him, the blade in his hand, and the two dead bodies of the djinns.

Sam swallowed finally finding his words. "Did you… how… how did you kill the djinn?"

"I, uh… I did it with this," he looked down at the angel blade, "I wasn't even sure if it would work." Lie. "But it was my only option." Almost truth. "It's not a blade I enjoy using and rarely do so." Complete lie. "What matters is it worked."

"That's some blade if it can kill a Djinn," Dean commented. "Where'd you get it?"

Castiel thought for a moment, choosing words carefully. "I suppose you could call it a family heirloom."

Dean hummed. "So no chance of getting another?"

"No." He hoped he kept the sadness from his tone. He knew more questions were coming. But if there was one thing the angel had learned from his time on Earth, it's how to avoid questions. "We should inform Lord Winchester about the djinn. The fact these demons were working with other creatures means others are as well."

The brothers looked taken back by the sudden change of topic, but luckily didn't comment.

"That's a good idea," Sam said, "there's a town a few hours south of here. We can send a raven from there."

The group continued discussing the events of the night and what to do next. Eventually, Castiel was able to discretely make his beloved angel blade disappear and it wasn't brought up again. Having only air to grasp left a feeling of vulnerability; a feeling Castiel truly disliked. Now that his companions knew about his blade, he'd have to be more careful than before. Sam and Dean were observant; more so than anticipated. The angel would always need to be ready to flee at the first signs of recognition.

But there was something else stirring beneath. A different feeling still easily overpowered and barely noticeable, but it was there, nonetheless. The thought of leaving these two humans just didn't feel completely… right. Like there was an invisible tether pulling his very being to the brothers. It wasn't something Castiel understood.

The angel had never feared much in his long life, but that feeling; it scared him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has not been long at all but let me tell you I want to share this story... like a lot.  I'm really enjoying it and exploring different ideas and dynamics.  Hopefully you guys are just as excited as I am. Please leave so kudos and review to let me know what you think!  You can find my on tumblr under the name quinnarrow if you wanna chat about this story. Anyways, enjoy!


	5. Anger of Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Castiel felt every muscle turn to stone. Ice filled his very core making every breath on the verge of painful. His mind was filled with a single repeating thought: He knows."

Dean paced as they waited. "What's taking so long?"

"Asking every couple minutes is not going to make him magically appear," Sam deadpanned.

"All I'm saying is that you'd think a lord would know how to be on time. I mean we could be hunting demons right now."

Castiel understood the frustration. The group of hunters had overheard some news of a small exploration party going missing for several weeks before suddenly returning to their hometown unscathed. Several unexplained incidents were reported since the arrival, so the hunters suspected demon possession and were about check it out when an urgent message requesting aid came in.

The oak doors sung open as Lord Rosen and a young woman hustled in. Sam and Castiel stood in respect as Dean came to a halt.

"My apologies for keeping you," Lord Rosen said. "Please sit."

The hunter took chairs next to one another as Rosen and the woman sat across the intricate metal table. The craftsmanship complimented the rest of the room quite well. If Castiel had to guess, he'd say this was where battle strategies were discussed.

Rosen continued, "I appreciate your hast and willingness to help, My Lords. I understand your time is needed for the demise of demons, but no other options were available for our… situation."

"We're happy to help, Lord Rosen," Sam declared.

"And," Dean spoke, "we are not lords. Just three hunters doing their job."

"Just call us Sam, Dean, and Cas."

The young woman nearly squealed in the moment drawing all gazes. She bit her lip hard and averted her eyes.

Castiel attempted to bring back the conversation. "My Lord, how are you aware of our activities? We've only been hunting for a few months."

Rosen chuckled. "Word travels fast when it wants to. And I agreed with Lord Winchester's plan about hunting demons. I do have hunters of my own, but you three have gathered quite the reputation. The Winchester brothers and their companion seem to be killing demons, ghosts, and witches all over the kingdom."

Castiel supposed that would be true. Creatures of all kinds, including demons, had been causing mayhem in most of the towns they went to. New ones crossed their path at least once a week.

"So what seems to be the problem?" Sam inquired.

"Well, it's a bit difficult to explain. We've been driven out of our sacred grounds for nearly two years by some unknown creature. People began disappearing so I sent some soldiers to investigate. The few that returned…"- Rosen swallowed hard – "It's like their minds were pulled apart and stitched together the wrong way. They've never been the same since."

"And no one else has seen the thing," Dean stated.

Lord Rosen shook his head "Unfortunately no."

"Why call for help now? If it's been two years, why not hunt the thing down before?"

"Because of my daughter." The man gestured to the woman beside him. "Becky believes she saw a shadow of the creature stalking our walls. The creature's been staying on our sacred grounds and only lashing out when disturbed, but now I'm fearful of an attack."

"But now you're here! And everything will be alright," the woman, Becky, exclaimed.

Rosen gave a stern look to his daughter. "Sweetie we talked about this." Becky appeared to have no regrets. "As I was saying, any tools or men you require is yours. I suggest you move quickly and complete the task during daylight."

"Understood, My Lord." Sam stood and everyone soon followed. "We appreciate the offer, but I think we have everything we need."

"We can handle it. Besides, we don't want to put more of your people in danger if we don't have too," Dean added nonchalantly.

This was something Castiel had notices about the elder Winchester recently. He often portrayed himself as a man with little fear. Many believed that to the future Lord of the Eastlands, demons were a mere annoyance; the widespread stories of their hunts only bolstered the thought. But over the past months, Castiel has noticed small things, unrecognizable unless you know what to look for. It was difficult to describe.

The elder man's shoulders slumped in what can only be described as pure relief as he stood. "Words cannot express my gratitude. I wish you three the best of luck."

As Lord Rosen and Becky left to continue their day, the three men looked at each other. Castiel could see the brothers had a similar thought running through their minds. And it wasn't one of certainty.

* * *

The sacred grounds were frighteningly beautiful. Castiel admired his surroundings, attempting to not fall behind the two brothers ahead. Out of all the places in the world – and he's seen much – this was near the top of the angel's favorites. The beauty of it reminded him of home.

A dense fog hung around the top of the mountain the grounds resided upon; unwilling the let go of the morning dew. The uneven stone path wound its way left and right with no rhyme or reason. Some places were wide enough the let a horde of riders wander with ease. Others forcing walking travelers to slip through one at a time. On either side of the path stood rock structures tower so far overhead, the tops stayed hidden in the mist. The grounds seemed as if God himself took a fine blade and carved the mountain peak.

The hunters stayed silent through their trek. A sense of danger following them with every step. After crossing a simple stone bridge over the open air, the area opened wide beckoning the wary fighters forward. Nearly a hundred paces from the bridge presented the edge of a cliff to the hunters, again their view obstructed by the fog. Castiel felt slightly disoriented while peering at the endless wall of white. There was no doubt the view of the valley below was stunning on a clear day. No one wanted to break the silence fearing the peace be disturbed.

Dean finally sighed. "Wishful thinking, but maybe the thing ran off."

"Maybe it's nocturnal?" Sam offered. "I mean the majority of the attacks happened at night, right?"

"Don't mean it can't attack now. I'm sure there's plenty of places to hide around here."

Castiel nodded in agreement. Not a single stone seemed recently disturbed. However there were many side trails left unchecked. The angel felt heavy with unease. There was something definitely off about this place. Glancing at the brother beside him, Castiel silently let his senses expand pass human limits.

The presence at the mouth of the bridge immediately grabbed his attention.

Without removing his gaze from the foggy valley, Castiel gently wrapped a hand around Dean's forearm. The man only glanced at his comrade understanding the silent meaning of the gesture. In turn, Castiel vaguely saw Dean lightly tap the back of Sam's hand with his own. Slowly, as one unit, each hunter lifted a hand the swords hanging at their belts. He barely laid a finger on the hilt when a voice casually called out.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. It'll ruin the fun."

Hands retracting from weapons, the group of three turned to face the threat. He looked like a man though one could never be sure. At least he wasn't a demon, that much was obvious to the angel. The tattered clothes and muddy, worn-out boots suggested he'd been living out here for a while. Brown, disheveled hair nearly reached his slumping shoulders. Dark circles decorating wild eyes were a stark contrast to the extremely pale complexion.

"You know," he continued, "I'll give you credit for noticing me so quickly. Most never stand a chance." He brought a finger to his chin in mock thought. "Though I suppose I could use a challenge."

"What are you," Dean blurted.

Their foe tilted his head looking slightly offended. "Well, that's a bit rude, don't you think?"

"You're human."

The man glared at Castiel for the statement. His silence was answer enough.

"Why are you killing innocent people?" Same demanded.

"Innocent," he nearly screamed, rage boiling in an instant. "Every person in that wretched town is anything but innocent. They cast me out of my own home without so much as a warning. They deserve what's coming to them."

"Why'd they cast you out?"

Castiel couldn't really blame Sam for keeping the man talking. The more information given, the better. But the angel had a feeling there was something more. It almost seemed the younger brother was hesitant about attacking. He was human after all. Sure, fighting demons and ghosts were one thing, but a living, breathing human was a whole other mental barrier.

The man continued his rage filled rant. "Why? Because I'm better than all of them. I can get inside their heads. I know what they truly want, what they truly fear and bring them to life. I can show it all until their fragile minds break."

Sam immediately went rigid. Dean cast a worried glance his way but said nothing.

The youngest Winchester remembered to breath. "You're psychic."

A sadistic smile spread across the man's face. He slowly spun; arms out wide as he spoke. "We have a smart one over here! Ten Units to the tall guy." He stopped, facing the hunters once more. "And you know what's funny? I've been in all your heads the moment you stepped foot into this place. And I have to say" – he pointed a boney finger at Castiel – "that you, my friend, hold more guilt than anyone I've ever seen."

Castiel felt every muscle turn to stone. Ice filled his very core making every breath on the verge of painful. His mind was filled with a single repeating thought:  _He knows._

The psychic continued, unaware of the storm brewing inside. "I mean, there's so much guilt I couldn't find much else."

The angel nearly slumped with relief. But the reprieve lasted mere moments.

"Until now." The same chilling smile returned. "Say hi to your brother for me."

And Castiel's world spun. Nausea plagued his body, mind unable to string thoughts together. Heart pounding, threatening to burst. He could feel the stonework beneath his planted feet, but his vision tilted every which way blurring the surroundings together. The angel vaguely registered someone shouting, the fear and concern dripping from the undecipherable words.

His world continued in chaos, yet one face came into focus. Cropped sandy-blonde hair. Easy going smile promising some sort of mischief. Smile lines illuminating eyes that were normally welcoming but could turn cold without warning. Leather armor shredded beyond repair. Blood free flowing from multiple open wounds dripping onto the gray stones below.

Balthazar tilted his hear the corners of his mouth rising skyward. "Hey Cassie. Miss me?"

* * *

"Cas!" Dean yelled for what seemed like the hundredth time. The dark-haired man gave no indication he heard his friends calls or shoulder shakes. Cas stood perfectly still arms lax at his sides. At a quick glance, one would think nothing was wrong. But the normally bright blue eyes told a different story; it was as if the fog clinging to the valley had entered his gaze allowing only a hint of color shining through. After ten minutes with no change, both Sam and Dean began to truly worry.

The elder hunter glared at the bloodied psychic kneeling a few feet away. Sam stood firmly behind him, gripping his collar with one hand, pressing his sword to the man's throat with the other. The gleam painted in his eyes expressed the pleasure he felt with the current situation; even if he was so easily subdued.

"What did you do to him?" Dean growled.

The psychic huffed, barely resisting Sam's hold. "You know it's a funny story…"

Sam jerked him slightly cutting him off. "Stop toying with us and answer the question."

"Fine, fine. I didn't do much. Just letting the poor guy get reacquainted with a family member."

Dean wasn't sure what to make of that. Cas had never mentioned his family and neither brother pushed for information. Dean was honestly curious about what the psychic figured out. But not like this. Not while his friend was in danger.

Dean pushed his thoughts aside glaring once more. "Bring him back. Now."

"Or what?" the man challenged.

Anger set green eyes ablaze like a burning meadow. But it was more than anger. It was a silent promise. A promise of unrelenting pain both physical and mental. It's something Dean showed few and far between. Only when the safety of those he cared about most was threatened. He idly wondered when Cas snuck his way onto that particular list.

No words were needed as the psychic flinched at what he saw.

Voice shaken, he finally said, "I can't do it."

"Why?" Dean's voice was clipped and cold. He ignored the nervous glances Sam sent his way.

"Because I don't know how," the psychic sobbed, façade crumbling under Dean's gaze. "Breaking a mind is easy. But piecing one together… it's something completely different."

The elder Winchester attempted to smother the flames of anger and took a deep breath. He turned back to Castiel trusting his brother to watch the psychic as a desperate idea formed. He'd noticed Sam's unease about fighting a psychic right away. He couldn't blame him after being tricked by a man with similar abilities when they were teenagers. One night, Dean had found his brother collapsed on his bedroom floor half-out of his mind. In a blind attempt to save Sam, Dean was able somehow able to guide him back to sanity.

Dean didn't know if he'd be able to do it again, but there was no way in hell he wasn't going to try. Placing both hands on his friend's shoulders, Dean looked deep into clouded eyes. Hoping to leave the worry from his tone, he spoke low and smooth.

"Cas, can you hear me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey! What's up, people? So I'd actually written this chapter and the next after the one that's now Ch. 6. I felt like things were moving too quickly and more character and relationship development was needed. I'm actually quite pleased with how this one turned out, especially the second half.
> 
> FYI, the setting of the second half is inspired by Rock City in Chattanooga, TN. I was there a few months before writing this and it was creepily beautiful. I hope i gave it somewhat justice with its description.
> 
> Please drop some kudos and please review! I want to know your thoughts and they fuel my desire to write. You can find my on tumblr under the name quinnarrow if you wanna chat about this story. Thanks for reading!  
> ~quinnarrow


	6. Healing the Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up everyone? I know, I know... it's been a while. Things have picked up at work and I haven't had as much time or energy to write, hence the longer-than-a-month break (sorry about the cliffhanger).
> 
> Anyways, please follow for update notifications and review!

 He knew exactly what was happening. He remembered the events leading to it; meeting Lord Rosen, walking through the sacred grounds, conversing with the psychic. He remembered the man's words as he took over the angel's mind. Logically, Castiel knew what his eyes were seeing was not reality.

But the pain and heartache was as fresh as the first time he witnessed his brother's death.

It started out with a smile; one Castiel hasn't seen for a very long time. The taunting would quickly follow. Words changed, but the meaning stayed constant.

"Why didn't you come back for me?" Balthazar would say, smile vanishing. "Why did you get to live while every one of our kin died? What makes you so special?"

Castiel would try to respond, to explain he wasn't special. But the words caught in his throat leaving him in silent agony. Despair took hold knowing any attempts were in vain. Desperation fueled despair as knowledge of what was to come became apparent. The trapped angel struggled against an invisible force. Every muscle in his vessel staining as silent pleas fell from his lips. But it was never enough.

The tip of an angel blade protruded from Balthazar's chest painted red with blood. Castiel instinctively looked away as the bright light of his brother's existence was snuffed. But that didn't block the pained scream that filled the air. It was a sound the lone angel could never forget. If he were a creature who slept, Castiel knew it would haunt his dreams.

Blue eyes would hesitantly open once silence reached his ears. But relief was miles away. Even as Balthazar stood in front of the younger angel. Starting again with that easy-going smile.

Castiel lost count how many times he watched his brother die. An endless cycle with the same ending no matter the victim's struggles to change it. He needed to break the loop. He needed something else to focus on from the outside world. Something to latch onto…

"…ou… me?"

There. Right there. The familiar voice seemed to come from a distant place as it echoed against stone. Somewhere not yet reachable. But it was something. Castiel desperately clung to the words like a lifeline.

"…amn it, come on. We ne… pal."

Dean's voice was getting closer, more persistent. A light pressure on his shoulders appeared as the angel imagined an unbreakable rope tethering himself to the words.

"I need you to give me a sign," Dean gently demanded. "Any movement you can do to let me know you can hear me."

The invisible force was strong and unrelenting. But the angel was nothing if not persistent. Summoning in-human strength for the first time in years, he pushed back ignoring his brother's shouts.

 _'I'm an angel,'_  he thought.  _'I've lived thousands of years. I will not me defeated be some insignificant mortal.'_

Thoughts fueling his strength, Castiel gave one last push. Ever so slowly, the angel tilted his head.

He could hear the smile in Dean's voice. "That's it. Good work, Cas. Now, what you're seeing isn't real. Remember you're with Sam and me. We're hunting a psychic who put you in some sort of trance. You need to break out of it."

Castiel knew this already. But with every word spoken, he gave a tug on the imaginary rope leading to reality. The vision was on the verge of collapse; he could feel it. One more pull should do it… He looked to Balthazar once more. The image was shuddering in and out of focus.

 _'I'm sorry brother,'_  he thought.

He pulled the imaginary rope taught. The vision shattered.

The blurry surroundings of the sacred grounds quickly sharpened as he blinked. But the majority of the angel's gaze was occupied by the bright green eyes and unhindered smile plastered on Dean's face.

"Hey, there he is. Welcome back."

"You alright, Cas?" Sam called. Castiel peered over Dean's shoulder at the younger Winchester. He was currently subduing a shocked psychic. Wide dark eyes stared at the two men in front of him.

Cas let out a small huff. "I am fine."

Dean leveled a look saying he didn't believe Castiel's claim. Not that the angel expected him too; the group had been together for long enough to see when each other was lying, mostly. But Castiel eyed him right back warning not to push the subject filling his gaze. Truth be told he felt hollow. Like his former acceptance of the past had been ripped away letting the flood gates open. Pain rushed into the deep void in his chest overwhelming everything in its path. Years of solitude had done nothing but allow the angel to build a dam holding all of the guilt away, keeping it far from the forefront of his mind. The lie he'd actually dealt with his grief, one he'd told himself constantly until he believed it to be true, was no longer relevant.

But he built the damn once, he could do it again… right? Castiel wasn't so sure. The pieces could be put back together exactly like they were before, but the cracks would remain; forever a reminder of the damage done.

* * *

Dean was getting worried. Cas had barely spoken a word since returning from the sacred grounds. By the time the group of four had trekked back down the path, the fog had released its hold letting much needed sun light shine on the mountain top. The hunter had tried pointing things out to his friend as a distraction; interesting formations, streams, plants, but only received hums of acknowledgement. When they arrived back at the keep, Cas diverted to the stables leaving the brothers to hand the psychic to the guards and teach them sigils to contain him. Even after regrouping and setting off on the road once more, the distance and unfocused nature lingered in his blue eyes; not completely aware of his surroundings. It was like the man was trapped in his mind all over again.

"He's not okay," Sam stated plainly, finally breaking the unbearable silence as they rode along.

Dean glanced backwards to Cas. He gave no indication of hearing the brothers.

He turned back to Sam. "Would you be?"

"We both know the answer to that."

The elder flinched. "Sorry."

Sam gave a small reassuring smile. "It's fine. But that's why I'm so worried. It took me weeks to get back to some semblance of normal even with your and Dad's help."

"So you're saying he needs time off from hunting?"

"Maybe." Sam scrunched his brows together. "But I don't think Cas is one to sit idle for very long."

Dean couldn't really argue with that. There had to be a way to snap the guy out of it. "I mean, we could try and get him to talk. Figure out what that bastard showed him."

"No.  _You_  should talk to him."

Dean almost laughed before seeing his brother's serious expression. "Wait, why me?"

The smallest hint of amusement shone in Sam's brown eyes; like he was trying to hide something funny. "Well, it's no secret you and Cas have… gotten to know each other fairly well."

The hunter gave a flat stare. "So have you."

"But not nearly as much as you." The amused glint vanished for a brief moment before returning. "It's been a while since I've seen you so openly protective. Especially with someone other than Dad or me."

"What are you…" Dean shook his head, "Never mind. That's not the point. You've always been better at the emotional crap."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Trust me. You have a better chance of getting through to him than anyone. So stop whining and go talk to him."

The elder glared for a moment before sighing. "Fine. But if this doesn't work, I get your next three desserts from home."

Before Sam could argue, Dean slowed his horse so Cas would catch up. He also watched as Sam actually sped up to put some distance between them. Dean would thank him for the privacy later. As he fell into step next to his friend and the hunter took a good look. He looked straight ahead, eyes mostly blank but filled with more exhaustion than Dean had ever saw come over the usually calm features. Once proud shoulders slumped and swayed with the horse's movements. Reins held loosely showed which creature was truly in control at the moment. And Dean's stomach twisted at the sight. He could only imagine the thoughts running through his head.

"Cas?"

Said man jumped, startled by Dean's call but quickly recovered. "Yes, Dean?"

"Are you okay?"

"I am…"

Dean held up a finger interrupting the income lie. "If you say you're 'fine', I will kick your ass right here and now."

Cas paused, brows creasing with confusion. The guy was most likely debating whether Dean was being serious or not. But then he dropped his head and sighed. "I suppose it wouldn't help trying to convince you otherwise.

Dean waited for him to continue somewhat patiently. He was dying to know what had shaken Cas so much and was itching to tell him to spill. Years ago that's exactly the behavior most would've expected from the hunter. But now? Now he knew better. Many close calls and losses haunted the man. Leading and being responsible for many lives during battle tended to leave a mark on one's mind. Logically it's easy to understand the benefits of sharing burdens with someone even if that person can't completely relate. But Dean had always been the type to use any excuse to keep all horrors hidden from view and was quick to anger if pushed too hard. So needless to say, he understood Cas's hesitancy. But his overall demeanor suggested the man wasn't going to elaborate on his own.

"Look," he sighed, "I know I'm not exactly a role model when it comes to talking about feelings. But you can't lock these things up. It'll eat you alive."

"Feelings do not have a separate physical form and therefore do not possess the capacity to consume human flesh."

Dean blinked stunned by the sudden comment. Cas continued to look ahead not realizing the oddity of his words.

"It's, uh, it's just an expression," he finally stammered.

Cas hummed distracted by his thoughts once more. This was getting out of hand. The guy was barely listening. There had to be more to this that Dean wasn't seeing.

Fueled by frustration and determination, Dean reached over, gripped Cas's reins and pulled. Both horses came to a halt. "Castiel, look at me."

Finally, blue eyes focused on the man beside him. Shock at the use of his full name was thoroughly mixed with confusion. Dean faltered under the stare, but held the gaze, matching the firm grip on both set of reins.

He allowed some of his worry to coat his voice. "What's going on with you?"

"Why do you care so much?"

There was no accusation in Cas's tone. Nothing defensive was directed towards Dean; just genuine puzzlement. Like the comprehension someone was actually concerned about him wasn't there at all. It was the hunter's turn to be confused.

"Why wouldn't I? You're my friend. After all we've been through, I thought you felt the same."

Wow that sounded very sappy.

Cass looked away almost in shame. "I do. You and Sam… you're one of the few friends I have. It's, um, been a long time since I've been able to say that."

It clicked. Not in a 'sudden discovery' kind of way but in a 'slowly connecting the dots' kind of way. Dean thought back to when they first met. How Cas was treated by his fellow soldiers. He was practically an outcast in a place where brotherhood was supposed to be strong. Having someone to rely on was something he'd never had before or the very least in years. Of course the guy was confused with Dean's concern. But how could the emotionally stunted hunter explain? Sam really was more qualified for this.

"Listen Cas. I don't know your life story and I'm not asking for it. But you've got to talk to someone about what's bothering you. It doesn't even have to be me or Sam but it has to be someone. Just know that we're not like those bastards in the Mills Battalion. Both of us are here for you no matter what."

 _'Wow,'_  Dean thought,  _'listening to Sam's lectures all these years has really turned me into a sap.'_  But he couldn't find it in him to regret his words. He silently watched as Cas searched his face for any falseness; any hint the hunter as lying. And Dean kept his expression open knowing he wouldn't find any.

Like a candle being blown out, an expressionless mask graced Cas's features. The Winchester felt his heart sink as the man spurred on his horse forcing Dean to relinquish his hold. The flame of hope growing in the hunter's chest fizzled out as he sighed in defeat. Sam should've been the one to talk to their ailing friend.

With a light kick, Dean urged his horse forward. It wasn't until Cas cleared his throat did the man realize the two were once again riding side by side. Normally, silence wasn't a big deal, but now it was just uncomfortable. The heaviness of it made the rider want the squirm in the saddle. Only sheer willpower kept him still.

"It was my brother," Cas said suddenly. "What the psychic showed me. It was my brother."

Dean whipped his head around but quickly averted his gaze. He didn't was to do anything to make the timid man stop now.

But Cas wasn't even paying him any mind. "He and I were in battle. We were losing… badly. No matter how hard we fought, the enemy just kept coming." He paused, taking a breath. "When the order to retreat back to H… the camp came, my brother and I were nearly overwhelmed. We both turned to flea and… and I made it to safety. He did not."

 _I'm sorry_  didn't seem appropriate. What did one say to another after losing a sibling? Dean spotted the small moving figure in the distance unable to comprehend if Sam was no longer there to watch his back.

Noticing Cas was lost in thoughts again, Dean attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. "The psychic… he showed you your brother's death."

"A version of it, yes. It happened a long time ago, but I guess the pain of it never truly abated." He took another shuddering breath. "Every time I think about it, there's always thoughts of how I could've saved him."

That was something Dean understood. He always found himself asking  _'What if'_  after failing to save an innocent. Sam and his father had lectured him on numerous occasions about it. Being on the other side was a bit strange, but the Winchester finally knew what to say.

"I'm not going to pretend to know your brother or what exactly happened. But I can tell you two were close and if he was anything like you, he went down swinging. I think he'd be proud of you for carrying on the fight."

As the corners of his mouth slightly rose skyward, the spark in Cas's eyes returned. The burden had not yet left his shoulders completely, but the weight was noticeable lighter.

"Thank you, Dean." He whispered.

Dean smiled back. "It's what I'm here for." He returned his eyes to the trail noting Sam was a significant distance away. "Come on. Let's catch up before Mr. Giant does something stupid."

"I do believe that is your area of expertise."

The hunter sputtered as Cas tried to hide the obvious smile. Before Dean could think of a retort, Cas urged his horse into a faster pace leaving him behind. A light chuckle passed his lips and Dean set off to chase his friend.


	7. Still Breathing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup? I wanted to address something real quick. I probably didn't make it clear (and that's my bad), but this story doesn't cover all the hunts the boys go on. At this point, they've been hunting together for... <*checks notes*>... I'd say close to 6-ish months. During that time, Sam has noticed things cluing him into the close bond Dean and Cas are forming (think like us fans watching the show finding "Destiel hints" in a lot of different moments). Sorry for not making that apparent.
> 
> Anyways, thank you all for your kind words and support. It means more than you can know. Please leave some kudos or a comment to let me know what you think. Things are starting to pick up and I'm excited for what's to come. 
> 
> ~quinnarrow

“May I ask you a question?”

Dean looked across the peaceful fire from sharpening his sword.  Shadows casted by the dancing firelight made Cas’s skin appear as pale as a ghost.  And he should know; they’ve dealt with many of them in their travels.  But his eyes still shone with an inner light that the hunter couldn’t really describe even if he tried.  There was just something about the soft gaze and piercing shade of blue he’s come to admire in the past months.

And during that time, Dean’s noticed a shift in the man’s demeaner.  He’s still uptight most of the time, but also more relaxed.  He jumps into conversations more giving input about a plan instead of readily agreeing.  The guy didn’t seem as detached as before.  For whatever reason, Dean no longer got the feeling he would disappear any second.  Although Cas seems to enjoy teaming up with Sam in teasing him, Dean couldn’t bring himself to stay angry.  Like that initial spark of annoyance is immediately doused with something building deep in his chest; something Dean has happily ignored for a while now.

He shook himself out of his thoughts hoping Cas hadn’t noticed the staring.  “Uh, sure.  What’s up?”

Cas endearingly tilted his head.  “Why do you call me Cas?”

Dean hadn’t really thought about it before.  Sam had told him shortening complicated names was a thing of his.  Castiel might fit that description, but there had to be something else.

“I’m not totally sure to be honest,” he admitted.  “I guess it’s just easier to say, especially during a fight.”

“I see.  When I was part of the Mills Battalion, everyone called me Novak.  Is that difficult as well?”

Dean chuckled.  “Not even close, but I don’t think those asshats called you that in a friendly way.”

Cas looked away and nodded.  “I understand their judgment of me was… degrading.  I am sure it won’t be the last time I cross paths with such negativity.”

The look on his face made Dean’s stomach drop.  Just the utter _defeat_ cursing his being fueled a need to do something to lift the burden crushing his friend.

“Ah, forget them.  You got me now.”  Dean blinked, surprised by his own words and quickly continued.  “And Sam.  Me and Sam.  Both of us.  I mean, you’re practically family at this point.”

That certainly got his attention.  He whipped his head around, eyes wider than dinner plates.  “Family?  A while ago you said friends.”

Dean looked away trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck.  “Well, yeah.  We’ve saved each other’s asses so many times I figured you probably qualify.” 

Cas’s expression hadn’t changed so he added sheepishly, “Sorry.  That was a lot.  It’s cool if you don’t want…”

The man snapped out of his daze.  “No.  No, that’s not it.  It’s just…”  His eyes shone with gratefulness.  “It’s been a while since I’ve been part of a family.”

And there it was.  That something building within his chest swelled threatening to burst.  Dean knew exactly what it was.  Whenever this had happened, Dean had been able to ignore it until the cause had moved on.  But not this time.  This time he had an inkling it was here to stay no matter how much he tried to beat it down.  And oh how he’s tried.  It’s something he’s been terrified of for most of his life.  There were too many unknowns for him not to be.

Dean cleared his throat shifting uncomfortably on the ground.  He picked up the whetstone once more.  “You get some shut eye.  I’ll take first watch.”

Cas gave his adorable head tilt again.  “I always take first watch.”

“Yeah, well I don’t really feel like sleeping right now.” The Winchester looked down trying not to squirm under Cas’s intense gaze.  “Besides, with Sam back home in Kripsing we have to be more careful.”

“We’ve been doing alright so far.”

Dean leveled him with a glare.  “You’ve been taking more watches than me.  This might be a simple information gathering assignment, but both of us need to be sharp.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.  I am perfectly functional,” Cas argued.

All Dean could do was sigh and hope he was convincing.  “All I’m saying is that it can’t be healthy with how little sleep you’re getting.  Sam yells at me all the time for pulling the same crap.”

“It’s fine, Dean.”

“No, it’s not.  Will you please just…”

Time suddenly slowed.  A feeling of numbness spread throughout Dean’s body.  His vision blurred as his tongue became too heavy to function.  He thinks he hears his name being called.  The person sounds worried.  Despite the numbness there’s a pressure somewhere on his torso.  He looked down.

Oh.  That’s why.

The shaft of an arrow jutted outward from the left side of his chest.  Blood was quickly soaking his shirt racing downwards.  But all Dean felt was its warmth.

This should be hurting, right?  Arrows to the chest normally hurt like hell.

 _‘Shock,’_ he idly identified, _‘I’m in shock.’_

Breathing became difficult.  Short and shallow, a bit straining. 

He lopped his head to one side trying to make out anything in front of him.  But his blurry vision prevented details from coming into focus.  Shadows vaguely shaped like people danced around in the firelight.  It was difficult to tell, but he was able to register a glint of silver.

There’s a prickling sensation brushing against the back of his neck.  It took a moment for Dean to realize the sensation was from the grassy floor of the woods.  Wasn’t he sitting up a few moments ago?

Dean’s half-closed eyes fluttered as warm hands gently cupped both sides of his face.  And in all the confusion and blurriness, Castiel’s face came into perfect focus.  A small cut across his forehead dripped blood into his wide, horror-stricken eyes.  Dean didn’t really understand why.  It was only a small cut.  Cas seemed to be shouting something at him, but for some odd reason, his mind wouldn’t process the words.

Darkness began to creep into his vision as the warmth left his face and Cas slid out of his hazy gaze.  Then came the tugging.  Then came the pain.  The worst pain he’d felt in his short life ripped throughout his entire body.  He’s pretty sure he gurgled a scream.

But as fast as it came, the pain disappeared.  In its place; warmth.  But a different type of warmth than standing next to a roaring fire or sleeping under a blanket.  The best way to describe it was like a hug.  The soothing transfer of one’s body heat causing every tense muscle to relax while basking in the person’s presence.  Like his soul was washed clean bit by bit.

Dean opened his eyes to find a soft light coming from somewhere.  And in that light, he was able to focus on Cas’s face once more.  The man was hunched over the arrow wound; eyes screw tight in concentration.  Just before blackness overtook Dean completely to pull him into unconsciousness, two large shadows painted the trees behind Cas.  And for a brief moment, Dean could’ve sworn the shadows took the shape of enormous feathery wings.

* * *

“…ou sure he’s okay?”

“As far as I can tell he’s perfectly healthy.”

“I guess that’s something, but… none of this makes any sense.”

“I’m sure he’ll fill in the blanks when he wakes up.”  _Pause._   “Hey! Don’t you get all mopey on me.  Your brother is fine.”

 _Sigh._   “Thanks Jess.”

“No need to… look!”

“Dean?  Hey Dean, it’s Sam.”

A familiar ceiling made of dark stone greeted Dean as he finally peeled his weary eyes open.  The pleasantly soft bed and blankets was a welcome change after many nights sleeping on the forest floor.  He had to fight the urge to fall back asleep.  Instead he searched his old bedroom until finding the smiling faces of Sam and the medical assistant Jess.

Sam leaned forward in his chair next to the bed.  “Welcome back Dean.”

“Dean?” Jess called softly, “do you know where you are?”

He took one more sweep of the room squinting at the sunlight streaming in from the window.  “Looks like I’m back in Kripsing,” he croaked.

She smiled.  “Good.”  Looking down at Sam with fondness in her gaze, she placed a gentle hand on the tall man’s shoulder.  “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

Dean observed as Sam watched her leave.  The trance only broke when Dean chuckled after the door closed.

Sam glared.  “Not a word.”

“Whatever Loverboy.”  After sitting up more or less under his own power, Dean gratefully accepted a cup of water from Sam.  “So, what happened?”

The corners of Sam’s mouth pulled downward.  “I was hoping you would tell me.  A guard spotted you just outside the keep’s gate about half a day ago.  You were completely unconscious.  Jess was called to treat your wounds but there wasn’t much for her to do.”

Dean rubbed the center of his chest trying feel anything different under his shirt.  And there was nothing; no blemish, no pain, no bandages covering remnants of the event he knew wasn’t a dream.  Nothing to indicate an arrow had nearly pierced his heart.

But the action did, however, bring his attention to the soreness of his left shoulder of all places.  Gingerly, Dean rolled up the short sleeve off of the tender skin.  He hissed as fresh air breezed over the red scar.  It was as if a handprint was burned into his skin, but that didn’t make a lick of sense.

Finally he turned back to Sam who was patiently waiting the completion of the self-examination.  “How long ago was the last mission?  The one about demons in Sioux Falls.”

“You left two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks?  But that would mean the attack was last night,” he mumbled mostly to himself.

“Wait, you were attacked?”

Completely ignoring Sam, Dean felt his confusion multiply with every thought.  “But that’s not possible.  No one can cover two weeks of foot travel through dense forest in a couple of hours.”

“Dean, what attack?”

“Not even with horses.  And wounds can’t just heal overnight.  Maybe if you’re a witch, but not something that serious…”

“Dean…”

“But the timing works out.  Cas and I…”  the elder Winchester went completely ridged upon noticing a certain someone had yet to be seen.

He turned to Sam.  “Where’s Cas?”

His brother’s face was grim.  “I don’t know.  I asked around while you were out, but no one’s seen anyone matching his description.”

“Are you sure?”

Sam nodded.

Dean rubbed his face with both hands.  “He’s the only one who knows what’s going on.”

“I’m sorry.  It’s like he vanished into thin air.”

“Damn it Castiel, you stupid son of a bitch.  Where are you?” Dean cursed.

Sam blinked; eyes going wide and lips slightly parting.  Dean would’ve thought the man was taken back by the outburst, but he knew better.  It was the look of recognition when things finally began falling into place.

“What?” he asked impatiently.

“Is…” – Sam swallowed – “is Cas short for Castiel?”

And the confusion grew ever more.  “Yeah.  Castiel Novak.  I thought you knew that.”

Sam leaned forward again with a serious look in his eyes.  “I’m going to repeat my earlier question and I need you to give me as much detail as you can.”

“Uh, okay?”

“What attack?”

Dean recounted the tale, as much as he remembered, which actually wasn’t much in retrospect.  By the time he finished, Sam was practically falling out of his chair.

“You saw wings.”  It wasn’t a question.

“I mean I saw shadows that looked like wings,” he confirmed.

“And an arrow wound that was nearly fatal is magically gone.”

“Yeah.”

“And you travelled an impossible distance in an instant.”

“I guess.”

“And now Cas has disappeared.”

“Where are you going with this?”

Sam jumped up and began pacing the room.  “Oh my god.  Oh my god.  Oh my god...”

“Mind sharing with the audience there Sammy?”

The comment went ignored as the frantic man started running fingers through his hair.  Seeing yelling wasn’t getting him anywhere, Dean threw off the blankets and practically leapt out of bed.  It only took a few strides to catch his brother’s shoulders halting his movements.  He was met with wide brown eyes and was startled to find them filled with pure hope.

“Talk to me Sammy,” he pleaded.  “I’m in the dark here.”

Sam smiled wide.  “Dean… Castiel is the name of the Angel of Thursday.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first big story for the Supernatural fandom. Once I got the idea, I couldn't get it out of my head so here we are! Please review and let me know what you think!  
> You can find me on Tumblr under the name quinnarrow. Feel free to send me a message.  
> Hope you enjoyed it!


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